


The Outsider

by weegee1204



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Aubrey considers her place in Kepler, Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 06:30:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18138635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weegee1204/pseuds/weegee1204
Summary: And they’re not unfriendly. Never unkind. Just… curious.





	The Outsider

It’s a title that she’s given to herself, in the time since she’s been a Kepler citizen. A Keplerian. Keplerite? Whatever. Since she moved to Kepler.

Well, ‘moved’ is maybe probably not the right word. More like ‘consented to being abducted in order to avoid an arson investigation and has wound up crashing at an inn for cryptids while she and two random dudes fight monsters and save the world and junk’. That’s more accurate, if a bit wordy.

Not like she can tell anyone that. Besides the people at Amnesty Lodge, of course— there’s not a lot of permanent residents, and by now they all know her, and she knows them. It is nice, she realizes, to have something of a community again. A group of people to eat with, to hang out with, to come back to at the end of a long, crappy day. Friends and more-than-friends and mentors; she realizes she missed all of this while she was traveling as the Lady Flame.

(She thinks about her father, when she realizes this. And when she realizes  _ that, _ she makes herself stop. She’s mostly successful.)

But she can’t tell anyone why she’s here. It’s such a small town, everybody knows everybody, and there’s quite a few aspects of herself that made her sudden, yet now ongoing, presence… questionable, if nothing else.

And they’re not unfriendly. Never unkind. Just… curious. Maybe suspicious, sometimes. When she deflects their questions with vague answers— _ “I came here for work” _  and  _ “The owner of Amnesty Lodge is an old friend”  _  and _ “This patch on my vest doesn’t mean anything, it’s just a nice design” _ (and never mind that they’ve seen a hometown park ranger and a widely-despised conman with the same pine tree patch)— they don’t push; not to her face, anyway. She’s sure she feels their whispers behind her back; she’s even more sure they don’t bother to whisper when she’s not within earshot.

It gets a little harder when the questions get more serious. Why she’s at this crime scene, why she’s talking to these witnesses, why she inserts herself into every odd occurence or unforeseen tragedy this town has. And she doesn’t mean to point fingers but they really should have had a plan for this, a plan to defend the Pine Guard from being shut down by bureaucratic figures who’re sick and tired of a couple of randos interfering in everything.

She really wishes they had a plan, because she needs one. Duck is Keplerese, born and bred, and at least has some sort of authority (even if he’s just a forest ranger— at least he has a  _ badge. _ ) And Ned’s reputation precedes him; no one’s surprised at the weird or sketchy shit he does anymore. Whatever they do, the two of them will be okay. Because everyone knows them.

But she doesn't have their security of being known. To the people of Kepler, she is a stranger, a mystery, an unknown variable in an equation of constants. She is wholly, sometimes painfully aware of this: of how every part of her— her appearance, her attitude, her way of living— is unfamiliar, incompatible. Different. And it sets her apart. And it makes her vulnerable.

She knows this. She wants everyone to know that she knows this. Because you can’t be ostracized if you set yourself apart first; you can’t be stared at when you choose to stare right back.

So she goes to a small arts and crafts store and buys some fabric paint, stays up all night to carefully craft the words in large scrawl along the back of her vest; she’ll wear her label with pride. With every new person she meets (and isn’t it weird how she’s met so few people here, yet everyone seems to know her already) she reaches out a hand and says, “I’m Aubrey. I’m The Outsider.” The responses are usually the same— a surprised blink, a slightly embarrassed laugh, like they were just caught in a social faux pas— and she thinks,  _ Gotcha, _ because she knows she’s right about what people say about her. When they discuss her in their daily gossip circles, when they give her the side eye in public, when they tighten their grip on their children ever so slightly when she comes near— she knows what they’re thinking. 

And she’s not so happy about it. But she claims it anyway. She has no choice. 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at olliedollie1204


End file.
